


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by annabeth_at_the_helm



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 1950s, Adultery, Explicit Language, Implied Slash, Infidelity, Korean War, M/M, frank sexual speech, it's cold in Korea in winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_at_the_helm/pseuds/annabeth_at_the_helm
Summary: "My balls have never been this cold," Hawkeye said.
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "frigid" for Get Your Words Out Yahtzee prompt set #8 (last one!).
> 
> (Also, I couldn't think of a title besides this one, and I'm pretty sure that [besides the song] this was used as an episode title, too.)

"My balls have never been this cold," Hawkeye said, blowing into his gloved hands. "My dick has completely shriveled, and my balls have departed for parts unknown, I think." He snuggled tighter into his cheap, nominally-warm, olive drab blanket—courtesy of the army, of course.

"You're a doctor, Hawk," Trapper said, speaking through a pair of socks covering the lower half of his face. "Ya oughta know where your balls are at all times."

"And I likely would, if my brain hadn't frozen solid days ago, when this especially frigid cold snap hit us." He leaned towards the stove, but it was so cold in Korea at the moment that the stove's heat barely registered. "I bet infrared wouldn't show a single warm body in this camp."

"I could warm ya up, Hawk," Trapper suggested, waggling his only visible eyebrow.

"Not on your life," Hawkeye replied. "If I have to move one muscle out of these longjohns, clothes, coat, and blankets, I think they'll find my frozen body in the morning, with my toes cocked up to the sky."

"Could be worth it," Trapper said. "Might at least die warm. And happy."

"My dick does not understand 'happy' at the moment, Trap. All it knows is cold, cold, and more cold."

Trapper flopped backward onto his bunk, rolling ponderously under the weight of all of _his_ layers, and tried to burrow as close to the stove as he could.

"Damn Frank," he muttered, and they both looked over at Frank, who was the one with the battery-operated socks keeping him warm. He lay snoozing under his thin army blanket, looking for all the world like a satisfied cat in a sunbeam, never mind that it was about a million degrees below and the middle of the night.

"Should we steal his blanket and his socks?" Hawkeye asked, knowing the devilish twinkle that was in his eye.

"One sock for each of us?" Trapper asked, and they went back to staring longingly at him.

"I guess we shouldn't," Hawkeye said at last. "I'd rather not put toe tags on him in the morning."

"That is, unfortunately, a good point. We should try to sleep." Trapper's breath plumed in the air by the light of the moon.

"It's too cold to sleep." Hawkeye yawned. "But a good idea nonetheless. Night, Trap."

"G'night, Hawk."


End file.
